


worth the wait

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre is a nurse at the hospital and Courfeyrac is waiting for news (and also has a little trouble with a vending machine).</p>
            </blockquote>





	worth the wait

“Oh, come _on_...”

Combeferre looked up, trying to see what was going on. It was usually pretty quiet at the hospital unless there was some sort of emergency. Only that right now the emergency didn’t seem to have anything to do with a patient, but a guy who was struggling with the vending machine in the waiting area.

It was right across from the nurses’ station, which was why Combeferre had witnessed many similar struggles and knew full well that that vending machine could be a real pain in the ass. Combeferre put down the chart he’d been leafing through and walked over to see if he could help.

“Please,” the guy was saying to the vending machine, as if he could somehow reason with it, “I just need some coffee.” He knocked against the vending machine, which did absolutely nothing. “Fuck you,” he grumbled.

Combeferre cleared his throat.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” the guy said, jumping away from the vending machine. “I didn’t want to... damage hospital property or something, I’m really sorry.” He dragged his fingers through his curls, smiling apologetically.

“Don’t worry,” Combeferre said, “you’re not the first one who got angry at that vending machine.” He smiled at him. “What’s your name?” he asked. He’d already seen that guy two hours ago and since he was still here, he was probably waiting for someone to get out of surgery.

“I’m Courfeyrac,” he said, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater, “and I’ll stop being mean to the vending machine, I promise.”

“You were getting coffee?” Combeferre asked.

“I was _trying_ ,” Courfeyrac said, side-eying the vending-machine. “It took my money, but it won’t give me any coffee.”

“I’ll get you some,” Combeferre said. “Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”

Combeferre poured Courfeyrac a cup of coffee in the break room and handed it over to Courfeyrac, together with a few packs of sugar and cream. Courfeyrac was looking at him like he’d just handed him the Holy Grail.

“Thank you so much,” Courfeyrac said, eyes dropping down to Combeferre’s name tag, “ _Combeferre_.” Courfeyrac breathed in the scent of his coffee with a content smile. “This is probably much better than the vending machine coffee.”

“I’m sure you’re right. Give back the mug when you’re done. I’ll be right over there,” Combeferre said, pointing at the nurses’ station. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you,” Courfeyrac said again.

Combeferre smiled at him and went back to work and was soon immersed in paperwork again, nearly jumping out of his skin when Courfeyrac put down his empty coffee mug on the counter in front of him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Courfeyrac said lowly. “Thanks again for the coffee.”

“No problem. Would you like another cup?”

Courfeyrac shook his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, chewing on his bottom lip.

Combeferre put down his pen. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I mean, you’re busy and don’t have time to answer ridiculous questions from people who worry too much,” Courfeyrac said. He scrunched up his nose, looking way too adorable for his own good.

Combeferre bit back a smile. “It’s alright. What are you worried about?”

“Well, my grandma is in surgery and it’s been, I don’t know, three hours and I guess that’s probably not even that long, but I’m just worried that something went wrong.”

“If something had gone wrong, someone would have let you know,” Combeferre said. “What kind of surgery is she having?”

“Heart surgery,” Courfeyrac muttered. “I don’t know what exactly they’re doing, but it’s heart surgery, so I bet it’s dangerous. I mean, my friend tried to explain it to me and he said that it was going to take a couple of hours, but still...”

Combeferre nodded. “It’s likely going to be another hour or two, but your grandmother is in good hands and if something had happened, you’d know about it.” Combeferre smiled at him reassuringly. “Are you sure you don’t want another coffee?”

“Nah, I get jumpy when I have too much,” Courfeyrac mumbled. “It’s just... not nice. The waiting, you know. My dad is still at work and my mum’s visiting my sister in Italy because she just had a baby, so it’s just me and...” He took a deep breath. “And I’m sorry, because you don’t care and you have work to do and people probably talk at you all the time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Combeferre said. He didn’t mind being talked at for a bit as long as people weren’t telling him how to do his job. “Why does your sister live in Italy?”

“That’s where my mum is from.” Courfeyrac leaned against the counter. “I actually wanted to go see her as well, but now I’m glad that I didn’t.” He eyed the pile of charts next to Combeferre. “Well, I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Why don’t try to take a nap?” Combeferre suggested. “I’ll wake you up if there’s any news.”

“You’re an actual angel,” Courfeyrac said, smiling at him before he went back to the waiting area, where Combeferre could see him curl up on one of the sofas.

* * *

“Are you shitting me?”

Combeferre stopped in his tracks. He knew that voice. When he turned around he found Courfeyrac glaring at yet another vending machine. This time it was the one with the snacks. As far as Combeferre knew that one should be working perfectly well.

Combeferre smiled at the lady who was sitting next to the vending machine and seemed to be absolutely scandalized by Courfeyrac’s language and stepped up next to Courfeyrac. “Can I help you?”

“What the–” Courfeyrac looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh, hey.”

“Hi,” Combeferre said, nodding at the vending maching. “What appears to be the problem?”

“It seems that I don’t have enough money for a chocolate bar,” Courfeyrac said flatly, “and it makes me sad.” He stuck out his bottom lip, but he didn’t manage to keep it up for too long until he burst out laughing.

Combeferre snorted. “I’ve always thought that the candy in there was overpriced.” He gave Courfeyrac a nudge. “Follow me.”

Courfeyrac did, grinning broadly when Combeferre fished a chocolate bar out of a drawer at the nurses’ station. “We keep these around for kids, but I suppose I can make an exception.”

“Thank you,” Courfeyrac said. “I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast and I’m starving.”

“We do have a cafeteria on the ground floor,” Combeferre said. “It’s not a four-star restaurant, but it isn’t all that bad.”

“Yeah, I know, I just don’t have enough money. Like, except for the fifty cents that aren’t even enough for a chocolate bar.” Courfeyrac grinned wryly. “My dad will be here in about an hour, though, I’m pretty sure that he’ll drag me to the cafeteria anyway. It’s the only place in the hospital that he seems to like. He thinks hospitals are depressing.”

“A lot of people do,” Combeferre said. He understood, in a way. On some days he’d rather work in the maternity ward as well. “How’s your grandma?”

“She was awake earlier, so that’s good, but they’re still monitoring her. Or _you_ are monitoring her, I guess.”

Combeferre nodded. “My colleague checked on her earlier. I’ve been dealing with an uncooperative lady who said she wouldn’t eat her food unless I moved her to a room with a TV that worked. Apparently she can’t live without her soap operas.”

Courfeyrac’s lips twitched. “Did you?”

Combeferre shook his head. It had taken a lot of sweet-talking, but that was part of his job. “In the end she did enjoy her chicken without the soap operas.”

Courfeyrac sighed. “I wish I had some chicken.”

“Well, I hope you get something to eat soon,” Combeferre said with a laugh. “I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work.”

“Right, of course,” Courfeyrac said, “I’ll see you around.”

Combeferre smiled. “See you.”

* * *

Combeferre probably shouldn’t be looking forward to seeing Courfeyrac at the hospital, but he really did enjoy talking to him. So much, in fact, that he was starting to have a hard time ignoring that his stomach gave a flutter every time Courfeyrac smiled at him.

Only when Combeferre came across Courfeyrac after his shift on Friday night, he wasn’t smiling at him. He was back in the waiting area, his face puffy and his eyes red-rimmed, knees drawn up to his chest, chewing on his finger nails.

He must have got here while Combeferre had been changing. Or maybe while he’d been fighting one last battle with yet another uncooperative patient. Combeferre walked up to him with a frown. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Because Courfeyrac wouldn’t be here this late at night if there wasn’t anything wrong.

Courfeyrac blinked up at him, quickly wiping at his eyes. “There was, um...” He shrugged. “I don’t know, a blood clot, and I don’t even know what exactly that means and they didn’t really have a lot of time to explain, they just said that they needed to operate again.”

“Well, it’s...” Combeferre trailed off. Courfeyrac didn’t need any more medical terms right now. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Courfeyrac whispered. “My dad is downstairs, he’s making phone calls. And I’m just gonna wait here, I guess.”

“I’ll get you a cup of tea,” Combeferre said. He also brought some cookies, just to make sure Courfeyrac got a little something to eat.

“You’re not wearing scrubs,” Courfeyrac mumbled when Combeferre handed him his tea.

“No, I’m not,” Combeferre confirmed. He sat down next to Courfeyrac, wondering if he should maybe give him a hug or hold his hand.

“You were going home.” Courfeyrac reached for his cup of tea, looking miserable. “You don’t have to sit here with me, you’ve been working all day and you probably want to sleep. Seriously, thanks for the tea, but I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind,” Combeferre said. He hated it when people had to sit here on their own. Usually he didn’t have a lot of time to offer comfort, but right now he did and, well, he liked Courfeyrac and hated to see him so sad. “I’ll stay until your dad comes back.”

“Well, you’ll be sitting here for a long time, then,” Courfeyrac muttered. “I told you, he doesn’t like hospitals.”

“I’ll keep you company, then.”

“You really don’t have to,” Courfeyrac whispered, looking like he was about to cry.

“I know.” Combeferre held out his hand, palm up, and Courfeyrac took it without hesitation. His fingers were cold. “Have some more of your tea.”

Courfeyrac dutifully took a sip, lightly squeezing Combeferre’s hand. They sat in silence for a while, Courfeyrac sipping his tea, Combeferre trying not to think too much about the fact that he was holding Courfeyrac’s hand, which on its own should probably worry him.

“Combeferre,” Courfeyrac muttered after a while, “could you tell me something?”

“Sure, what do you want to know?”

“Nothing hospital-related,” Courfeyrac said. “Just tell me a story or something.”

“Well, I watched a documentary about penguins the other day, is that something I could interest you in?”

“Penguins,” Courfeyrac echoed, the corner of his lips twitching. “Sure, tell me about penguins.”

Combeferre did for about half an hour and Courfeyrac listened with interest, although after a while, Courfeyrac was starting to yawn. His was trying to hide it, Combeferre could tell, but it was obviously getting increasingly harder.

“I’m not bored, I swear,” Courfeyrac said, rubbing at his eyes, “it’s just...”

“Late,” Combeferre finished for him. “Would you like some more tea? Or maybe coffee?”

“No, it’s fine.” Courfeyrac gave him a tired smile. “Tell me more about the penguins?”

Ten minutes later Courfeyrac was fast asleep with his head leaning against Combeferre’s shoulder. And Combeferre was, well, he wasn’t _enjoying_ it, obviously, because Courfeyrac was upset, but every time he shifted or mumbled something unintelligible, Combeferre’s stomach gave a bit of a jolt. Courfeyrac was still holding his hand too, not as tightly as before, but his fingers were still curled around Combeferre’s and at some point Combeferre had started running his thumb over the back of Courfeyrac’s hand without thinking too much about it.

He very quickly pulled his hand away when Joly came walking into the waiting area, flashing Combeferre a grin when he found him sitting there with Courfeyrac. Combeferre might have mentioned Courfeyrac while he’d talked to Joly when they’d been on a break together. He might have mentioned him _a lot_.

“Please tell me you have good news,” Combeferre whispered.

When Joly nodded, Combeferre let out a sigh of relief and gently shook Courfeyrac awake.

* * *

“Combeferre?” Musichetta peered into the break room, smiling at him. “There’s a very cute guy here to see you.”

Combeferre frowned. “There is?”

Musichetta nodded. “He said his name’s Courfeyrac. I think I saw him when he was visiting his grandma the other day.”

“Yes, I... thank you.” Combeferre neglected his coffee in favor of seeing what Courfeyrac needed. As far as Combeferre knew, Courfeyrac’s grandmother had been discharged a couple of days ago. He smiled at Musichetta on his way out and walked down the hall, seeing Courfeyrac already waiting for him, holding a bunch of flowers.

“Hello, there. I thought your grandma got to go home on Tuesday?”

“Hey,” Courfeyrac said, grinning at him. “Yeah, well, I actually just wanted to say thank you.” He handed over the flowers. “I figured, you know, all of the patients here always get flowers and I suppose you hardly ever get any, unless you have a great boyfriend or girlfriend or...” Courfeyrac trailed off, his cheeks pink. “Anyway, thank you.”

“Anytime,” Combeferre said. “And thank you for the flowers. You’re right, I hardly ever get any.”

“Well,” Courfeyrac said, his grin growing a little wider, “if you said yes to going out on a date with me, I’d totally buy you flowers again.”

Combeferre laughed. “Is that so.”

“Yep,” Courfeyrac said, nodding, “so do you think that’s something you might wanna do? We could have coffee. Because technically I owe you coffee. Or, you know, we could go out for dinner. But I guess you don’t have a lot of evenings off, so yeah, whichever works better for you. I would have asked you a lot earlier, but I wasn’t sure if you were allowed to date patient’s relatives. Anyway, if you say yes now, it was totally worth the wait. So, what do you think?”

“I’d like that,” Combeferre said. He was definitely willing to sacrifice an evening off to have dinner with Courfeyrac. Honestly, it wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice anyway.


End file.
